Enchanted
by AliceMitch09
Summary: Depressed that her brothers couldn't make it to her art exhibit, who would've thought that meeting this handsome ginger blond could make frown upside down? Mutually, they both hadn't expected the magic that came with their meeting. Becket siblings fluff.


**A/N****: Ugh. Finally got myself to finish this. Just hope I could do the same to the other. /sobs Happy New Year to all!**

**Disclaimer****: I own nothing but the plot.**

* * *

Sometimes, it sucked being the youngest sibling.

It sucked even more to the fact that I was the treated like a baby being the youngest. I'm not saying that I hated it, but sometimes, it just ticks the hell out of me.

"What do you mean you can't come to my opening!?" that was practically a scream, I would have woken up the whole town.

Upon hearing this, my older brothers recoil. They knew how much the opening to my art gallery meant to me, plus, they promised they'd be there. They promised me over the phone, when they drove me to work, even during dinner! I held unto promises, they knew that. But, they did say promises were meant to be broken.

"Sorry Jaz, next time alright?" says Raleigh as he pinches my cheek. I glare at him, he knew I hated when he did that.

Shoving his hand away, I rub the side of my cheek. Dang, military work did him good. My cheeks hurt.

"That's what you always say…" I muttered, looking down to the ground.

He laughs, obnoxiously as always.

Then, he grunts in pain as someone whacks him in the head

"C'mon kid, that way to treat our baby sister?" Yancy says. When Raleigh comes to, Yancy meets my gaze. I look away. He sighs. "Look, we're sorry we can't come Jaz." My brows knit together in fury. "But uh, something just came up."

Yeah right, that's what you two always say - '_Something_'. Oh, and by something, you meant checking ladies down the bar right? That's what you always do every time you come home?

I wanted to say those, but I can't. I'd sound so whiny and desperate than I already am. It's unfair to be asking so much, but can't they see I just wanted their support?

I felt my tears welling up; it took everything inside of me just to hold it in. I hated crying in front of anyone, more particularly, in front of my brothers.

Releasing a heavy breathe, I settled for, "Fine, I understand. Sorry, it was brash of me." Psh, I sound so polite. Too polite for my own good. Well, we three had our differences anyway.

They sighed in unison.

Inhale, exhale. I slowly looked up, meeting their gazes while trying to be strong. Opening my arms, I called out, "Can you at least give me a hug? You know, for luck?"

And without second thought, they rushed into me, barely squeezing the life out of me – Raleigh to my left, Yancy to my right. GAH, I had such buff brothers.

"You don't need it Jaz." Raleigh says against my hair.

Yancy kissed the top of my head, something he'd always do to comfort me. "You're talented Jaz, luck doesn't count for it. You're talented, you'll get to places. Trust me."

"And besides, you're a Beckett! So there's nothing to be scared of!" Raleigh adds in attempt to lift the mood. Though as horrible as it sounded, it worked.

I punched him lightly, holding then unto their muscular arms.

I loved hugs from my brothers, they were always so warm. No matter how much time has passed, how much of jerks my brothers have become, I always loved hugs from them. I felt protected, safe, loved.

I felt like crying right then, but I held it back.

* * *

Splashing cold water against my face, I furiously wiped away any evidences that I had been crying. Yes, I have been. As soon as Raleigh and Yancy left, the waterworks came in and flowed endlessly. Ack, I sounded like a poet.

But still, I cried and cried until my tears had dried up. I was lucky enough to keep my sob in, my dad would've panicked and face my brothers. That was not going to happen.

As much as it pained me, I just let them be. It's their vacation anyways. I can't be that selfish brat who pestered her brothers to spend quality time with her, I was fortunate my brothers loved me to that extent.

But now that I'm 21, I can't do that anymore. I don't want to be unfair to both Raleigh and Yancy, especially now that (coincidentally), both Raleigh and Yancy are engaged. Soon, it's not me they'll return to. So starting now, I guess I'll have to get used to it.

I placed both arms against the sink as I steadied my breathing, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. Just like Yancy taught me- shit! Argh! I should not be thinking about him right now!

"Shit…"

It can't be helped, compared to my parents, my brothers taught me a lot of things.

Raleigh, taught me to be sociable, something he had a knack for. He was terribly good at that too, despite his cocky and self-assured personality. He also taught me to be myself, which was what mattered really most in this world.

Yancy on the other hand, being the oldest, taught me bigger and more practical things. He taught me to be brave, to stand up for myself when I have to. In my opinion, he's the wisest of them two since he's older and all. But also because, he's the one who shoulders me and Raleigh, he looks out for us.

Those knuckleheads were always trying to play heroes when we were kids, never knowing that one day, they ended up as mine.

I smile bitterly at this; the least I could ask for was their time for my selfish benefit.

Some sister I am.

I sighed.

Compared to my brothers who have dirty blonde hair, my hair is of a deep shade of brown, something I got from my dad. I also have the same blue eyes as my dad and my brothers, only which, mine seems to be a powdery blue. My brothers got their hair from my mom, their facial features from my dad.

I assess these in my head as I do my make-up, keeping it at minimal. It was a laugh at first, especially when I just noticed it now. People use to tell me how adorably ignorant I am when it comes to my looks.

I looked at myself in the mirror, at the petite brunette staring back at me. People used to say that I was Raleigh and Yancy combined only in female form, some say I look exactly like my mom – which was true. I didn't argue, my mom was a beautiful woman as far as I remembered.

For tonight's opening, I decided to wear the dress Raleigh's fiancé, Mako I believe her name was, sent me – a plum floral mesh up lace dress. I smiled, it was a beautiful dress. She has good taste.

As I put it on, I decided to leave my wavy hair down and pulled up my black flats before I heard a knock at my door.

"Jazmine?" it was my dad, "are you ready to leave?"

"Just a second!" I call back, grabbing my clutch and my phone before the door opened. Dad was watching me; his face steady. But in his eyes, I knew there was something brimming beneath them.

A breathe of relief escaped his mouth. "You look just like your mother…" he breathed.

Oh dad, please don't make me cry. I hurried up to him and held his hands, smiling up at him. "Oh daddy…"

He smiled back, leaning over to press his lips against my forehead. "So princess, you ready?"

I breathed, squeezing unto his hands, he squeezes back. "Ready as I'll ever be…" I tried to sound assuring.

Dad nods, taking that as a yes. He drapes an arm around my shoulder as he leads me out to the garage, we're using my car.

On the drive, dad suddenly turns to me and asks, "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"What do you mean?"

Grunting lightly, he audibly announces my previous worry "Your brothers - Raleigh and Yancy."

I opened my mouth, only to have it closed shut.

He didn't say anymore, but he knew what was going through my head.

At the red light, I took this as an opportunity to look at my dad, giving him a sad smile. Even when he had abandoned us long ago, he never stopped loving us and longed for us, he still came back. And when he did, he didn't waste another moment to spend it with us. Even when Raleigh and Yancy had long gone for college, for the military, my dad was there for me and he still knew me best.

"I'll be fine dad, really."

But at times like these, it was hard to lie to my daddy when it was about my brothers.

* * *

The show was going on pretty well, I'll admit. In fact, I'm surprised to see such a crowd!

"The exhibit's going great princess." Dad whispers to me for what seems to be the umpteenth time, I shake my head at him.

My exhibit was themed – Childhood Memories, and on display were paintings, statues and some random photography I had collected in our attic before smothering them together to what it was now.

2 years ago, I was reminiscing through an old photo album before I found myself in front of my palette conceptualizing. A year later, I just realized that I had practically filled my studio with colossal of my works. Then, a few months after that, I received the offer of a lifetime. A few hours then, I had called my best friends and told them about it, then my dad, they were all happy for me. And then, almost 5 hours after, I called my brothers and told them of my news. I could still remember their reactions over the phone, they were in the middle of eating…

* * *

_"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT! W-What!? Is this for reals?!" Raleigh screeched, his fists slamming against the table._

_"Uh-huh!"_

_"Like, for real!?"_

_"Uh-huh!"_

_"Like, ninety-nine percent-"_

_"A hundred and ten percent!" I cut him off, not able to hold my tears any longer. My tears were of pure joy, mind you._

_Suddenly, I heard Raleigh saying something I don't catch. But based from his voice, I could tell he was happy._

_"…my baby sister did it! She finally did it!"_

_I laughed against my tears, imagining how ridiculous Raleigh would've looked like._

_A while later, Yancy's hearty laughter echoes on the other line, I could still hear Raleigh behind him. There was a banter of laughter and joyous cheers on the background._

_"I'm proud of you Jazmine. You finally did it." Those simple words, they were more than enough especially when it came from my big brother._

_My tears flowed even more, a smile broke into my face. I must've looked like an idiot._

_"Hey, stop crying kid." Yancy says gruffly, making me laugh. He and Raleigh hated seeing me cry, says it makes me look ugly. They say I'm too pretty to cry which is a laugh._

_"S-Sorry," I sniff, wiping my tears away. "I-I'm just so happy!"_

_I could almost see him smile, one that almost looked like a smirk, but one I knew when he was really happy. I could perfectly see it in my head._

_"Hey Jaz?"_

_"Rals?"_

_"I'm proud of you princess." There was no hiding that hint of proudness in his voice, it makes me cry even more when he calls 'princess. "I really am."_

_I feel like the luckiest girl alive to have such brothers, I can't wait for them to come home._

_"You'll come right? To my opening?"_

_"Wouldn't miss it for the world Jaz!" Raleigh says with a laugh._

_Yancy chuckles, but then says, "What he said kid, we wouldn't miss it."_

_"You promise?"_

_"We promise." They said in unison._

* * *

They promised.

And yet…

And yet…they're not here

Just thinking about it, brings a terrible twist in my heart. They knew how much this meant to me, and yet…

"Um, excuse me a moment." I say to one of the contributors, I had no idea what they were talking about, but it seemed unimportant, at least to me.

Grabbing champagne off the nearest waiter, I wandered to an open pane window that had an overlooking view of the city lights. I heaved a sigh of relief when I got there, not minding the cold breeze that tickled my skin.

Resting my elbows against the railings, I took a sip of my drink, blue eyes boredly tracing the rim of my glass. When I was bored enough, I found myself looking up at the sky where thousands of stars greeted me.

And then I saw the moon.

It was a full moon tonight, I thought to myself.

Staring at it, I found myself transfixed. I felt at ease, at peace just staring at it. Stories of the moon were my favourite bedtime stories; second to them were stories about the stars. I chuckled to myself; I've had a lot of great memories as a kid haven't I?

No wonder it's so hard to accept adulthood, where reality bites at every corner. Maybe that was one of the reasons it was so hard to stop clinging to my brothers.

Looking at the moon one more time, my eyes drifted down to the city lights.

It was a beautiful night.

The idea of artificial lights countering twinkling stars had always humoured me, especially when they can make me feel melancholic or terribly at ease when I'm this low.

"Cheers," I say, raising my glass in the air. Though, for whom it was intended for, I dared not to know.

Just as I had re-entered the exhibit, a random thought occurred to me. I can't help but remember a certain work I had done. Though, I'm not sure where I had put it, so I circled around a bit just for it.

On the way, I was met by praises by people on the way, some were from my college friends, while some were from contributors.

Slowly, I began to recognize the path I was in. Later on, I was face-to-face with one of my earliest works, a painting I had made when I was 12. It was a painting purely of black and white, though, I worked out blue and black for the background for an effect all while I had used white paint for the outline. There were pine trees, mountains, flowers and stars, spits and spits of stars with constellations that never existed but I couldn't help but draw – a cube and a flower. There were stars shaped like diamonds, along the constellations. A lake was in the heart of the painting, mirroring the reflection of the mountain and the stars above. And interestingly, I wrote up the name of my Pomsky on the edge of the lake. Interestingly, the name of my dog, had also been the very name of the painting.

"South." A deep masculine voice read, from his thick accent, I can tell he was Australian.

Turning my head, I find a tall stranger standing right next to me. He was fit, fit in a buff way, just like my brothers. His hair was an interesting shade of blond, ginger blond. He was wore a brown button down with the top two left unbuttoned and denim jeans. He had a light stubble on his face, it made him look older and a bit mature, he had a strong jawline too.

I realized I had been staring at him for far too long and turned away before he noticed. Oh my, what the hell was that?

"U-Um…" I feel so awkward, am I seriously trying to strike a conversation with him?

He turns my way, as if in slow motion. I can perfectly see his handsome face, he's so cute. No, scratch that, he's gorgeous. No wait, he's adorable. No- GAH! What am I thinking!?

"You're the painter right?"

Pressing my lips together to prevent them from falling open, I nod, slowly sinking my teeth into them. Blue eyes gaze at me as his lips playfully curl into what seems to be a smirk, it's as if he's pressing on me. So I speak, "Y-Yes, I am the painter." And then turn to regret as to how squeaky I sound.

He chuckles, I feel my face flush.

I sip from my glass, swallowing it down in one gulp. I turned to my work again, feeling accomplished for it.

"I named it after my dog," I found myself explaining, surprised to find him listening. "It was a Pomsky my brothers gave to me on my eleventh birthday. But originally, I named him after my favourite constellation. I was twelve, if I can perfectly recall, a Wednesday I think, and it was a perfect twilight. At least in my opinion, and I had looked out the window of my brother's car as he drove me home. Mentally, I was tracing constellations and naming them. Then, this crazy idea got to me. So after dinner, I practically dashed into my room, grabbed my palette and my paints and started. I just, went on and on and on, I didn't have an exact image in mind, but before I knew it, I liked it." I hadn't realized I droned before I felt the glass slightly slipping from my fingers.

I felt the pressing need to check up on him, wondering if I dozed on him. So cautiously I looked up, our eyes making contact in the process, blue locking on blue. Though I was familiar with the blue hues, his however was different; they were a dazzling shade of blue. I could almost compared them to sapphires, _almost_, since they were a mystifying blue-grey.

My eyes shifted to his, then to his face, and then back again to his eyes before realizing the look he was giving me. I had been caught staring at him, I gulped inwardly while biting my lower lip.

"S-Sorry, did I doze you off?" I say lamely, in attempt to eradicate whatever foolishness I did seconds ago.

Judging from his lopsided grin, I'd say I did. I wanted to bury myself six feet underground. Instead, he surprised me with, "No, no, you didn't. Honestly? I'm just…oh, what's the word?" he lifted his head, running his hand over his blond locks as he struggles for a word. But wait, he said what?

"So, you didn't doze off?" I asked, appalled yet relieved.

His brows knitted together at my statement. "No, why would you think that?"

"Err, uh…well…" I hated the way I stammered. "…so, you caught on everything I said?"

He smiled at me, in an insanely attractive way. He turned to my painting, scrutinizing it for a brief second before he had begun talking. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were twelve when you had painted this. A perfect twilight had caught your attention, and you whimsically brought it on yourself to paint and paint until you were satisfied with what work of art you made. And in accordance, to its namesake, you named it after your Pomsky, South, a gift given to you by your brothers on your eleventh birthday."

"You had been listening!" I said in glee, nearly yelling in the process. I managed to get a hold of myself before I'd result to embarrass myself right here and right now. I'm just glad I hadn't dozed him off.

Again, he smiled that insanely attractive smile of his. Only this time, I had perfect control of myself. I secretly swooned at his smile.

"What made you think I wasn't?"

"I dunno really." I say in honest of ways I can.

His lips curled into a small smile. "You're a very talented person."

In that instant, I felt my blood rushing through my face. I dropped my gaze to avoid showing him my blushing face, I was probably putting my red paints to shame.

Then, I found myself walking around the exhibit with him by my side, discussing each and every story and detail to each artwork displayed. I hadn't realized that we haven't formally introduced ourselves, only exchanging a few words here in there about my works displayed. Well, he knew my name, but I certainly don't know his. Formalities slowly slipped my mind as we roamed, he was surprisingly easy to be with.

As he got a glimpse of my personal life as a child, he managed to share some of his. I learned that when he was eleven, his mother had died in an accident. It was a terrible blow for him and his dad, and he turned to resent his old man. Somehow, I felt as if I could relate to him. We were almost the same.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother." I say softly.

He shakes his head. "No, it's alright. That was years ago anyway. Back then, I was really bitter towards my old man. I had resented him for so long, but then, I knew I was just being hard on him without knowing what he's going through himself. He had blamed himself for my mother's death and openly accepted the hatred I had towards him. And for a few years now, I'm slowly trying to build up what we once had before my mother died." He trailed softly, inexplicable sadness evident in his voice. He looked sad, just as sad as I was. He was quiet for a long moment.

Without thinking, I had grabbed his hand and practically dragged him along with me. He didn't budge, but my reaction must've piqued his interest. Soon, we were by the heart of the exhibit, with one of my biggest, yet most prized work standing.

His expression literally changed the moment he saw it, regretfully, he let go of my hand and slowly circled my work. He gaped at it, confused yet entranced at the same time. I just there, where I had been when I brought him, watching as he looked at it up and down, not missing a single detail, brimming proudly at my masterpiece. Like him, there were a handful of guests circling around my piece, getting a glimpse at it.

The piece was about as tall as me, and as I had planned for it, it was terribly tricky and complicated. Starting from the bottom was a cloud of smoke, and emitting from the smoke was a single hand, a hand so delicate, yet marred by scars on its wrist. Inks and inks of unspoken words decorated some parts of the skin and along the fingers. On its palm was a single rose, a rose at the brink of withering, but its thorns seemed fresh and had tangled off the hand, encircling the middle finger entirely. Splotches of blood decorated the tips of its fingers, mixing with what was supposed to be ink. Surrounding the hand was a cage-like construction as tall as the sculpture; I had made using Popsicle sticks, acting as a safeguard. Majority of the piece had been out of clay, some, I had used and struggled with steel – for the thorns – and paper – for added effect for the arm.

A while later, he was by my side, his eyes not leaving my piece, I could tell that he was mesmerized by it.

Before he could ask, I started, "When my mom died, I was devastated. I was only nine, and yet, she was practically killing herself without the slightest care. Then there was my dad who was practically broken with the death of his wife. Two months after her burial, my dad wordlessly ditched us. And around that time, Raleigh was in college and my brother was enlisting for the military. In all those years, the only emotions I knew were anger, frustration, depression and longing." Lifting my wrist, I stared at the clean expanse of skin before me. "I used to cut myself because of all that." I felt him wince but kept his silence. "Even more, I even wrote on my skins words I failed to say or harsh words thrown at me. Funny, because one time, my oldest brother had reprimanded me because he had them mistaken them for tattoos." Enclosing my wrist with my other hand, I dropped them and went on. "And as I made this, I just poured out years and years of pent up emotions that had almost killed me as a child. But also, it was like I was writing a letter to my neglectful parents. My mom, the woman whom I shared my looks, for killing herself." I referred to the smoke and rose. "My dad, the man who was my anchor and my shield, who suddenly gave up on us." I referred to the cage-like construction. "And then my brothers, despite how much they clung unto me, they sometimes keep me at arm's length." I referred to the scars and words on the wrist. I had named the piece 'Escape' in contrast to what I had gathered and summed up from finishing the piece.

As I turned to him, a sad expression crossed his handsome face.

"I'm sorry to hear all that."

Shaking my head, I say, "Don't be, that was years ago."

He fidgeted in place. "How long did you work on this?"

"Hmm, two years? I was on and off with it when I was in art school."

We watch in silence.

"This is some heavy stuff." He breathed, his hands in his pockets. "Despite how interesting it looks, it's depressing really."

I giggle, he looks at me rather indignantly. "Sorry…" I say honestly. I was partly at fault, I picked the wrong piece. I was trying to cheer him up, having heard about his tragic life only to shower him with more tragic ones from mine.

As fast as lightning, the idea struck me. So once again, I grabbed his large hand into mine, but this time, gently lead him to another piece. This time, I was sure that it would cheer him up. And my assumptions did not prove me wrong.

It was simple sculpture, a potted tree with photos held by strings tied up to the branches. Each photo was of a mother and her child, sleeping soundly. There were 2 photos. The third had been my personal favourite, it was a stolen shot – a father embracing his wife and young child as they slept under a shade, out in the open.

When I turned to him, I find that he had stared at the third frame, his eyes glistening. Just when I was about to ask, he turned to me and smiled a genuine smile. "You're really talented. Thank you for showing me this."

My mouth twitched into a smile. "No problem."

He silently stared at the third photo long and hard, I knew he liked it, the expression in his eyes says it all. "A-Ah, well, this is embarrassing." He says with a fake laugh, wiping tears with his fingers. "Excuse me."

I watched him go, staring at his strong back. It surprised me that just like that, that perfect stranger was gone. I'd probably never get to see him again. And just like that, I was by myself once more. Sigh.

I stared back at the photo he and I had been staring at before turning away.

* * *

It was thirty minutes past seven when I was dragged by my college friend, in time for my professors from art school to drop by. Since I was the artist, I was off entertaining each and every guest. Though it was tiring, the comments and praises were very much inspiring. I even spotted students personally coming to me saying how much they were looking forward to the show.

"Jaz!" my friend, Dianne gushes, pulling me into a hug. "the show's going great!"

I blush. "Aw, you're just saying that!"

"No seriously, it is! I mean, people have been in that big sculpture of yours working on what it means and interprets." I laugh at this. "Oh, and by the way, yours truly is happy with the show's flow."

Aw, she's so sweet. Dianne's the one who gushed me into this, she's one of the show's benefactor.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to ask, I'm supposed to be meeting a Mr. Stacker Pentecost?" he's my main benefactor, and apparently, the one who discovered me.

"Marshall Pentecost is indisposed of the moment." A familiar masculine voice calls, I inwardly reprimand myself for forgetting about him. When I turned, there he was, that perfect stranger. I find a smirk on his handsome face. Dianne immediately excuses herself.

My cheeks suddenly flushed at the sight of him. "Indisposed? What do you mean indisposed?" I asked. "And wait, Marshall?"

"Yep, Marshall Stacker Pentecost." He says, his Australian accent thick. "And as much as he wants to be here, he's currently attending personal business as of the moment. So, in his behalf, he sent me."

"O-Oh," was all I could say, rubbing my hands together. "and you are?"

His smirk widens, eyes crinkling in delight. "Charles Hansen, but you can call me Chuck."

"Jazmine, Jazmine Becket."

He stretches out his hand, I take it in mine, surprisingly, a static reaction occurs. We look up, our eyes interlocking again.

Right then and right there, I knew that my cheeks were an unsightly shade of crimson red. "P-Pleasure to meet you." I say, squeezing his hands lightly.

"The pleasure is all mine actually." He says humorously, grinning widely.

"So," I managed, retrieving my hand from his, feeling a wee bit awkward. Seconds ago, he seemed like that easy guy I was comfortably chatting with, but now, he just seemed to be a completely different person. "you're in the military?"

"Yep, Air force pilot to be exact."

"Wow, my brothers are in the air force too!" I was practically squealing at the mention of my brothers, but then, I was soon shrouded by sadness at their absence. For a second, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch and the glint of his eyes darkened.

"Really?" he said through gritted teeth, something that surprise me.

"Uh…yeah."

"And where are they now?" he asked directly. Inwardly, I felt a heavy pang of discomfort. I didn't want to be reminded of their absence, it would only make me sadder than I was earlier.

"Ah…Er…Um…"

I sounded pathetic.

"They uh," my head dropped, suddenly staring at the hem of my dress. "They couldn't come." My voice had been thick with sadness, and anytime soon, I was sure my tears would start.

Chuck said nothing, but I could tell he was staring at me.

"The Marshall sends his deepest apologies for not coming, but also, he sends his deepest regards."

"Oh, umm, thank you." But that was weird, didn't that usually mean flowers and all? Maybe I shouldn't push my luck.

Taking a deep breathe, I pushed my sadness aside and turned up to Chuck. He looked rather surprise at my sudden determination, but he didn't try to ruin the moment for me.

"So, would you like a tour?"

A single brow raised in question. "But didn't we just-"

"Those were just the first batch, which were all mine really. The second floor are collaborations I did with a friend."

Immediately, his lips quirked. "Alright, I guess I'm up for more. But first things first," he offers his arm, I stare at it incredulously before shyly taking it.

"Well I guess chivalry never dies." He throws his head back in laughter.

We were just about to go, but suddenly, he stops and his expression softens, like he's figured something out.

"Chuck?"

He looks down at me, his other hand reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch leaving burning trails over my skin.

"I figured out the right word," he's referring to when I supposedly dozed him off.

"Oh?" I asked, suddenly curious. By this time, I knew he caught my cheeks flush.

He chuckled lightly before leaning to my ear, whispering, "It was enchanting to meet you Miss Becket." I swore, my face couldn't get any redder than it was moments ago.

Half an hour into the show, I was touring Chuck around answering whatever questions he has. And at every turn, it embarrassed me to know that many had mistaken him for my date. I swore, my face was nearly the shade of Dianne's red dress throughout the whole night. Most especially when a few wandering photographers, hired by the local newspaper, took a picture of us both. Occasionally, I had to break away from Chuck and join my friends into a little photo op and small chat.

It was fifteen minutes to eight before the auction had started, I was expected to be on the front rows to watch as my works were being sold off to the highest bidder. The show was going great as it was, but with the absence of my brothers, I thought very little of it.

Though I'm glad to have my dad and my friends around, it still doesn't feel the same without Raleigh and Yancy around.

"Jazmine?" Chuck called.

"Hmm?" I hummed, my head against a rock hard, yet surprisingly smooth arm that smelled of a deep masculine husk. Then it hit me, my head practically snapped up upon realizing that I had been leaning against Chuck's shoulder much to my embarrassment.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry Chuck! I-I didn't know!" I stammered, feeling my heart pounding against my chest. I took a step back. This is embarrassing!

But he threw his head back in laughter, my dad, who was now suddenly before us, joining in. He didn't seem to notice Chuck because his eyes were dead set on me.

"Hey princess," and for what seems to be the millionth time, he says "the show's going great."

I rolled my eyes before taking his hands in mine, giving them a light squeeze. "Thank you daddy, I mean it. And it means so much to me that you're here."

A shadow of a sad smile paints his face, making me worry. "D-Daddy?"

He shakes his head, squeezing my hands in return. "I'm just, really happy for you princess. I really am."

"Oh daddy, please don't make me cry!" I laugh, blinking my tears away. We both laugh.

"Who's this princess?" he asks, bringing me back to Chuck beside me, who of which, has been enthused by the sight of us two conversing, not at all bothered that he was momentarily forgotten.

"Oh god, Chuck!" I say, gushing to his side. He waves his hands as a sign that he's fine.

"No, don't bother me."

"Daddy, I'd like you to meet Chuck Hansen, he came in behalf of my main benefactor, Stacker Pentecost, since he couldn't make it today."

"Sir," Chuck greets politely, briefly looking from me down to my dad, stretching his hand. Daddy takes it without question, giving him a firm shake. I feel a sudden tension between the two, and it wasn't good considering that I was in between them.

"Richard Becket," murmurs my dad, his expression hard for some unfathomable reason. "How are you enjoying the show?" he asks rather impassively.

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Chuck says, "Personally, this is my first time attending something like this. But for my sake, I'm glad to be here and it's a privileged to be here."

Daddy raises a brow and scoffs, a small smile gracing his lips. "Really?" his voice is challenging.

Unfazed by my dad, Chuck continues, "Really." I wasn't able to catch on the rest of his sentence, but I could tell that he was rather smooth and nonchalant when conversing with my dad. I stared at him in awe, having heard a hearty chuckle from both him and my dad.

"Well, the show would've been a lot better with Raleigh and Yancy around." Daddy says lowly, bringing the attention back to me.

I bow my head with a pout on my face. "Don't remind me." I mutter. I could tell they didn't believe me, judging from their silence.

"Sorry princess," he apologizes, putting his arm around me, his thumb running comforting circles around my shoulder.

"That's okay daddy," I tell him, finally meeting their gazes. Chuck stares as if he's thinking twice whether he should believe me or not.

"Why can't they make it again?"

I shrug my shoulders, breaking away from my dad's grip. "Says something came up, so it must be pretty important." My eyes were dangerously misty, I desperately blinked them away. Chuck and my dad's faces softened at this.

"But, hey, it's alright. Even though they're not here, at least they got to know about this show." I say in a fail attempt to lift the mood.

"Not so fast princess." A voice calls from behind me. I practically froze.

Before I could react, I felt my feet leaving the ground and a pair of strong arms around my hips, twirling me around. I knew before he dropped me that I was in Raleigh's arms, seeing Yancy behind him, I broke away and dashed up to hug him too.

I couldn't stop the tears any longer, I just let them flow.

"Hey, what's the matter princess?" Yancy asks, I shake my head and hugged him tighter.

Then, I feel Raleigh's rock hard chest against my back and his strong arms around me, sandwiching me in the process; I can't help but cry even more as I laughed.

"Jaz?"

I break away from my brothers, hiccupping as I tear up. "Y-You're here, you came! I thought you'd never make it!"

Embarrassingly, we seem to be the center of attention. I heard a few 'awws' and polite applause as they watched us.

At the same time, both Raleigh and Yancy frowned down at me.

"Of course we'd make it! We promised you didn't we?" says Raleigh gruffly, leaning over to pat me in the head.

"B-But, you said-"

"We had something to do, and that something was this…"

From behind them, I heard a familiar bark, one I thought I'd never hear again.

"Arf! Arf! Arf!"

Getting down on my knees, I scoop Cross, South's son, into my arms. I thought I lost him a few years back.

"How…?"

"We were at the pound the whole day, just finishing papers to get this little mutt." Yancy says, getting on his knees, patting Cross fervently earning a satisfied bark.

Without warning, Cross leans over to lick my tears away. Something South used to do when I was depressed and in tears.

"Haha, stop it Cross! Stop it!" when he did, it was then that I noticed that he smelled of oranges. Picking the Pomsky in my arms, I turned to my brothers.

"We had him bathed, took us a while to do so." Complains Raleigh, he walks over and scratched Cross' belly. "That mutt moves a lot."

Cross barked in response, making me laugh.

I smiled up to them, the biggest smile I could muster.

"Thanks you guys."

They smile back in return.

And in that moment, I just felt like the luckiest sister in the whole wide world to have brothers such as them. We talked lightly, talking about their respective fiancés and the dates to their wedding. I held Cross closer to my chest and I beamed with childish glee. Maybe this time, this one moment, I could finally relapse about my childhood and accept the fact that we were growing up. The time we have for each other limited by the second. But knowing that they would never forget about me, I guess it was more than enough for me.

"Hey, I didn't know Chuck was here!" Raleigh suddenly announces. I see the said ginger blond cringe at the very sight of him, my dad and Yancy huddling to the side to watch. I found myself laughing at the two bickering at each other, it was very lively.

It was for a quick second, but I swore I saw Chuck look my way and smiled genuinely.

_'It was enchanting to meet you Miss Becket.'_

He told me that earlier.

And before I could help the blush from returning to my face, I found myself grinning secretly to myself like an idiot.

'_It was enchanting to meet you too Mister Hansen.'_


End file.
